


la vie est trop court pour boire du mauvais vin

by MogmaMittens



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Biting, Blood Kink, First Time, Fisting, Gratuitous Hentai Logic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Kink, Xenophilia, but i cannot be sure, i haven't finished anything in over a year please be gentle ;;, post ghimlyt dark, this might count as semi-public sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MogmaMittens/pseuds/MogmaMittens
Summary: Estinien couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss him or swallow him whole.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	la vie est trop court pour boire du mauvais vin

Finding Aymeric was always easy, if you knew where to look. Those less well-versed in his habits would check the medical tent first, or ask after the chirurgeons tasked with whisking the Warrior of Light away to the safety of behind Ishgard’s walls, assuming Aymeric might’ve tagged along. Failing that, maybe he had lingered on the battlefield to watch for any Garlean stragglers, or joining the soldiers in their post-battle celebrations. Estinien knew better from years of up close and personal Aymeric de Borel Experience, and after scouring the Ishgardian camp - and the rest of the Allied camps, for that matter - for a bottle of whatever hard liquor he could get his hands on and a first aid kit, he beelined towards Aymeric’s tent.

He didn’t bother to announce himself, knowing Aymeric would’ve turned him away, and watched him startle when he bumped the tin of first aid supplies against his hip. 

“You were favoring your left leg,” Estinien said, taking slow steps forward. Aymeric was sitting on the edge of his cot, barely big enough for one Hyur to lay in, let alone a full grown Elezen, toying with a makeshift tourniquet wrapped around his upper thigh. He was naked from the waist down save for his smallclothes, and Estinien frowned at the sight. “You thought to sit in a dark tent with scrap cloth wrapped around your leg rather than ask for help?”

“Our soldiers needed it more,” he replied, guilt creeping into his voice. “Tis not that deep a cut.”

“And I’d be inclined to agree, were I at all invested in the concept of your assassination. Are you stupid?” He clicked his tongue, “were you to let it fester, you’d have lost this leg.” It was, in fact, a deep cut. Aymeric knew this, and Estinien knew that Aymeric knew this, because if he didn’t he wouldn’t have tried ( _ tried _ being the key word) to use a tourniquet. Estinien dropped to his knees, gathering his hair up behind his head and tying it with a stray hair band he’d kept for this specific purpose. “Sit still, and drink this.” He handed Aymeric his pilfered bottle of vodka - he’d have enough for cleaning once he was good and numb - then slid a knife under the bloody tourniquet to slice it apart and retie tighter. “I trust you don’t have any bullet wounds I should be worrying about? Mayhap a hole burnt in your stomach?”

“It wasn’t my intent to worry you,” Aymeric said, quietly, before taking a long drink from the bottle. He was acting casual enough, though his shoulders were tense and his eyes betrayed the pain he was in. “Ideally, you’d have not known at all.”

“I should let you rot for that.” Yet when he peeled off his gauntlets and put his hands on his leg, they were gentle. He was  _ always  _ gentle with Aymeric. It was a personal failing. “This is going to hurt.” 

“My punishment, I gather?”

“For not headed off with the chirurgeons and the Warrior of Light?” Aymeric’s thigh twitched when he ran his fingertips around the length of the cut, “partially. Moreso that I don’t have an ilm of healing magic at my disposal, and this is far simpler than convincing  _ you _ to find a healer.”

Aymeric held eye contact for a moment before nodding sheepishly, because Estinien was correct on that count, and handed the bottle back in favor of gripping his scratchy, military-issue blanket. It lay half-over his front, leaving little other than his chest, shoulders, and injured leg exposed.

“I would bite that,” advised Estinien, before unceremoniously upturning the vodka onto his leg.  _ That  _ was the punishment. Disinfectant would’ve been easy enough to find, and a fair bit healthier to use, but this worked well enough and served as a lesson for Aymeric to draw from in the future. He cried out through his hand and tensed his leg, but kept still long enough for the grime to wash away. Good. If he couldn’t handle  _ this,  _ Estinien didn’t  _ want  _ to know how he’d deal with the stitches.

The actual cleaning of the wound went easily enough. Aymeric would twitch whenever Estinien got too close to the gash, but that was all. He had taken to leaning back on his cot so that he would be leaned on the wall were they not in a tent, and in most other situations the position would be considered  _ fairly precarious.  _ It was for the best that he’d be done quickly. 

He made fast work of setting out his supplies and tying the line to the needle. Reluctantly, he looked up at Aymeric to find him with his eyes shut and face pale. The blanket was still tight in his fist and Estinien sighed, took it from him, and tugged it up until it was at his mouth.

“You’re going to bite a hole in your lip,” he said softly, urging at his jaw with his thumb. Aymeric opened his eyes just a crack and nodded, taking the fabric into his mouth and biting down. With that settled, he pressed the tip of the needle just barely into his skin. “This is going to sting.”

Before waiting for a response - he was going to do it anyway, Aymeric couldn’t have stopped him - he slid the needle in, pulling the line through as quickly as he could without risking damage, then repeated the motion on the other side. When Aymeric had finally begun to relax three or four stitches in, Estinien let himself slow down. He wasn’t closing a cut in his own arm just out of battle; this was  _ Aymeric.  _ If he could make this less painful and more effective, he  _ would.  _

Ideally, they’d have a healer at the ready, but  _ obviously  _ none were available and Estinien knew Aymeric well enough to know he would deny help at the risk of others missing out on it anyway. It would’ve been a good enough thought, very noble of him, were he not at risk of an infection or  _ worse. _ This was for the best, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make his skin crawl every time he looked up and saw sweat rolling down his face and a blanket caught between his teeth.

It wasn’t until almost a third of it had been sewn up that Estinien noticed a marked difference in the way Aymeric was reacting. His breathing was picking up and he was sweating, both of which were surely  _ not good _ , and if he was going into shock he needed to find a healer  _ right now-  _

Aymeric’s blanket fell from his mouth, and before Estinien could demand (ask very nicely, and maybe even help) he put it back, he whined out Estinien’s name, who then proceeded to very nearly jam the needle right into his leg. 

“By the Fury, if you don’t-”

“No, it’s…” he inhaled through his nose, “not nearly as bad now.” His eyes were glassy and he was flushing to his ears, hands fisted tight in his shirt. Estinien took the quiet moment as a chance to continue stitching, his less busy hand reaching out to ease over the bare skin of Aymeric’s inner thigh. It was meant as a comfort, but became decidedly less so when his hips, just barely, twitched upward. The booze was finally kicking in the way it should have, far too late for the worst of it but soon enough that Aymeric was experimentally moving his leg this way and that, making Estinien’s job harder than it had any right to be. 

“Be  _ still. _ ” Estinien tugged the line roughly - not so much that he’d break skin, or else this would be a monumental waste of effort, but enough to make a point. This, of course, immediately backfired and instead had Aymeric slapping a hand over his mouth and arching upward in a way that did very little to help the guilt he was already feeling. He stilled, the fingers on his thigh smoothing down the skin in a way that he  _ hoped  _ was comforting. “Someone will help if I ask. This can’t be pleasant.”

_ “Don’t stop.”  _

Estinien blinked at him.

Aymeric blinked back, albeit slower.

“It’s nearly done anyway, yes? Just,” he looked away, decidedly embarrassed, “would it not be better to just get this over with?” 

“If you’d stop moving.” The wound was a bit more than two-thirds closed, and he would’ve been done already, had Aymeric not insisted upon twisting every which way whilst he did it. “Perhaps we’d have an easier time if I strapped you down.”

Aymeric inhaled sharply. “You’d  _ do  _ that?”

“I can find some rope if you won’t stop being difficult.” His eyebrow twitched and he waited for Aymeric to settle back before continuing the stitch, and thankfully he did  _ not  _ deign to start moving again, instead taking shaky breaths and worrying his heel into the tent floor.

Save for the occasional twitch, the rest went over easily enough, if only Estinien could’ve ignored the way Aymeric kept groaning, and his skin wasn’t so hot that he would’ve thought it a fever if he didn’t know it was the alcohol. When he pulled the end tight to tie it off, Aymeric breathed out Estinien’s name  _ again,  _ quietly enough that he wouldn't have heard it were he not listening. 

“You’re almost done,” he said after cutting the line and tourniquet, then easing Aymeric’s thigh from the cot so he could begin to wrap it. “Just a little more.” He could work faster now, pulling tight and wincing whenever Aymeric would gasp. He tied it off quickly, noting to leave the gauze here so he could change it later, then settled him back down. “Alright?”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, leaning onto his uninjured side. Estinien helped him get his leg up onto the cot and a pillow beneath his head, then stood. He needed to wash his hands, at the very least, lest he end up smearing Aymeric’s blood on every available surface around camp. With less haste than before, he gathered up his stolen supplies and closed the first aid tin, taking care to leave the gauze somewhere Aymeric would be able to find in the morning. 

“Estinien.” Aymeric’s hand landed on his wrist, still bare, “don’t go.”

“Not until you’re safe,” he promised, turning his hands over to show him the blood. “I’d not risk bloodying your bed any more than necessary, though.” This was, as far as Estinien was aware, a valid concern. Aymeric had shown his distaste for Estinien’s particular hygeine habits more than once, and were he to stay any longer, he couldn’t imagine he’d appreciate this any more. 

“You miss my meaning,” Aymeric replied, dragging him closer until his shins were pressing into the side of his cot. His face was still flushed, more so than before, and all the way down to his neck and up his ears. If Estinien were to look, he was certain it’d spread to his chest. The corner of his mouth twitched down.

“Are you certain you’re fine?” Aymeric’s knees rubbed together beneath his blanket, now spread over his hips proper, which must’ve done little to keep the since-sewn gash from hurting. “Should I fetch Lucia?”

Frustrated, Aymeric tugged on his wrist again, face desperate. “I don’t  _ want  _ her.”

Estinien stared down at him. Then, he stared some more. After Aymeric squeezed his wrist, it finally clicked and in a single moment, all of the concern drained out of his body to quickly be replaced with  _ smugness.  _ He leaned forward, thumb coming up to leave a red smudge over Aymeric’s cheek. 

“Does the Lord Speaker fancy himself a masochist?” He asked, face cracking apart into a grin. “Was it truly  _ that  _ good? You’d ask me to stay?”

Aymeric took the opportunity to take Estinien’s thumb into his mouth, smearing his own blood over his bottom lip. “I’d  _ ask  _ you to touch me.” 

Instead of kissing him - which is what Estinien  _ knew  _ Aymeric wanted, he  _ always  _ liked a slow lead up, even if it only ever ended with them grinding against one another until Aymeric came in his pants like a teenager - he let his breath ghost over his mouth, his hand not on Aymeric’s face moving down to creep beneath the blanket. “As you’d touch yourself, do you mean?” He toyed with the waistband of his smallclothes and Aymeric groaned. For the first time, he could feel the twitch of his cock, straining hard against the bloodied fabric. He swung a leg around, ignoring the creak of the cot as he climbed atop him, still thumbing at the corner of his lips. “Or would you rather I fingerfuck you with your blood on my hands?”

_ “Estinien-” _

“Tell me.” 

“Kiss me.” And so he did, closing the gap between them in one quick motion and swallowing Aymeric’s moan in the process. He could taste the blood between their mouths, pulling back when Aymeric got too eager.

“I don’t want to cut you.” Estinien bared his teeth enough that Aymeric could see his front teeth, a lasting reminder from Nidhogg. “They’re sharp.”

“ _ I  _ want you to cut me,” he said, more forcibly than the last time and with enough conviction that Estinien nearly dove down and bit him right there. “I want you to bite me, I want-  _ fuck. _ ” He kissed him again, less carefully now, grazing his canines over his lip before sliding his tongue into his mouth. 

Aymeric was never a very good kisser. He was always too haphazard, his teeth bumping into Estinien’s and drool running down his chin before they’d even gotten to the good parts. He’d always chalked it up to the effects of being  _ that  _ pent up for  _ that  _ long, but when he sliced his lip open and Estinien could taste blood, he took no small amount of pleasure in pulling back to watch the pink-tinted saliva roll down the side of Aymeric’s face. With half a mind to follow it with his tongue, he leaned down, only for Aymeric to take hold of his hair and pull him in again. Instead, he found his jaw and began to work his way to his clavicle, kissing open-mouthed until he reached somewhere he knew Aymeric’s collar would cover.

Dragging his teeth over the soft skin, he snorted when Aymeric gasped, his hips canting upward in hopes that Estinien would finally  _ do  _ something, which he was. Just, with his mouth, and in entirely the wrong place. The pressure wasn’t quite enough to break the skin, and instead he sucked a bruise into the scratch before making his way down to his shoulder. There, his teeth sunk in easily, and it wasn’t long before he could taste blood.

“Too much?” He licked his lips, glancing up at Aymeric’s earring before reaching to tug at it. Aymeric shuddered, mouth open and breathing hoarse. “You can tell me to stop.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Aymeric let his legs fall open (or, rather, the leg that wasn’t lying uselessly to the side so he wouldn’t tear out his stitches) and whined when Estinien ground down his thigh, the hard plates of his armor unforgiving and still cool to the touch. “After you take that Fury damned armor  _ off. _ ”

“You only needs ask.” Estinien stood up on his knees, stopping to kiss Aymeric again on the way, and set to removing his armor. Aymeric’s hands started at his hips and followed the skin as it appeared, paying special attention to the scars he’d not yet seen during their time apart. He had to roll off the cot to kick off his sabatons, then his leg armor, until all that was left were his breeches. Estinien could feel his eyes on him as he climbed back between his legs, reaching down and grinding his palm into Aymeric’s cock. “The rest off. Fair’s fair.”

Aymeric nodded, and once he’d tossed the shirt off to the floor Estinien was on him again, feeling up his stomach and leaving sticky trails of half-dried blood. 

“You keep weapon oil, no?” Estinien tucked two fingers under the elastic band of his smallclothes, snapping it back against his skin when Aymeric nodded and pointed wordlessly to the sack lying on the floor beside his sword and scabbard. “Get rid of these.” Estinien braced himself with one hand and twisted to reach the bag, pulling the drawstring open with his teeth and searching until he found the little glass vial he was looking for. Settling back on his haunches, he found Aymeric still wiggling about in an attempt to divest himself of what little clothes he had left, caught halfway down his thighs where Estinien sat.

_ “Honestly,”  _ he clicked his tongue, helping him raise his legs to tug off his underwear, and dropped it to the floor along with his shirt. “You’re lucky I didn’t just cut them off.”

This was the first time Estinien had seen Aymeric like this: chest heaving, legs spread, with his cock smearing precum against his stomach and mixing with his since-dried blood. He looked  _ distinctly  _ embarrassed, flushed all the way down his chest, frowning as he avoided eye contact. 

Estinien couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss him or swallow him whole.

“By the Fury, Aymeric,” he went with kissing, scooting his knees up behind his thighs and slotting their lips together, his hand finally wrapping around his cock. He keened and arched into his touch, and Estinien was uniquely reminded that  _ no one  _ had had him like this before except maybe himself, lying in his own bed and fucking his hand until he came. “If you’re able to walk come morning, consider that a failure on my part.” He drizzled the oil over his hand mid stroke and the noise Aymeric made was absolutely  _ criminal.  _ With another twist of his wrist he was coming, his whole body shaking like Estinien had never seen, the thin metal frame of the cot creaking at the exertion.

Estinien had been witness to a lot of things in his life. Aymeric blearily blinking up at him, lips swollen and hair mussed post-orgasm was by far his favorite.

“That was,” once Aymeric found his voice Estinien pulled back to slick up his hand properly, “ _ not  _ what I had intended to do.”

He laughed at that, dragging his fingers through the cum on Aymeric's chest on his way down between them. He pressed his thumb flat against his hole, "I'm going to fuck you on my fingers until you come again."

Aymeric nodded without hesitation, eyes going unfocused. It was all Estinien needed to slide in the tip of his middle finger, then watch for any indication of pain. “You’ve done this before?”

“Once.”

“When?” He pushed into the last knuckle and Aymeric sighed, body going lax. 

“After you left. I could scarce stop thinking about this.” His legs fell wider in invitation and Estinien took it, adding another finger alongside the first. If he didn’t know Aymeric to be honest to a fault, he’d doubt that this was his second time - he took two fingers without complaint, and were he more sadistic, Estinien could probably fit in a third. He twisted them around inside, thrusting them slowly until Aymeric was shifting impatiently. “More.”

He certainly wasn’t in a position to say  _ no,  _ and upon adding the third finger he hooked them all up experimentally, feeling around until Aymeric gasped and his thighs twitched.

“More?”

_ “Yes,”  _ Aymeric replied breathlessly, his hips rolling upward to meet him halfway. He was getting hard again and  _ that  _ made Estinien grin as he leaned down, dragging his teeth over the still-bleeding-but-just-barely mark on his shoulder. The fourth finger met considerably more resistance than the first three but Aymeric didn’t seem to mind, panting open mouthed into the back of his palm. It was then that he started fucking him in earnest, twisting and scissoring out his fingers until he could curl them into his prostate easily.

Aymeric reached down and grabbed Estinien’s wrist, stilling him, and for the briefest moment he was worried he went too fast, or that he’d hurt him, before Aymeric’s heel dug into his back and he started to grind his hips down, riding his fingers in a way that made Estinien groan out loud. Perhaps in the morning, once he was sure the stitches would hold, he could fuck Aymeric like this, just to watch the slide of his cock catching on his rim and the way he would take it so  _ gratefully.  _

_ “Please.”  _ Aymeric said, quiet, and his meaning was clear enough. It was almost too easy to get his thumb in, and Aymeric went quiet, shaking again until he was finally buried to the wrist and then he moaned, back arching so high it looked painful. He was careful not to push any farther, focusing his efforts into a careful twist of his arm and rubbing his knuckles into his prostate. 

“I want to watch you come again.” Estinien hadn’t realized how wrecked he sounded until just then, his voice cracking on the last word. If Aymeric was anything like this while he was fucking him, he didn’t know how long he would be able to last. The grip he had on Estinien’s forearm was so tight he would definitely be bruising tomorrow, and he decided to return the favor by laying his hand over the gash on his leg. Aymeric’s eyes widened, and when he sunk his nails into the irritated skin beneath the gauze, he whined so loudly that Estinien would’ve felt  _ very  _ bad for 

whomever was trying to sleep in the next tent, were they not also getting a free show.

Aymeric came not long after that, borderline tearing out Estinien’s hair with a quick tug of his fist as he did. Sweat rolled down his face, his chest - if he were not otherwise occupied, he would go after it down to his stomach, where all the blood and cum had collected, and watch his face as he licked it all into his mouth. Instead, he kissed the corner of his lips, Aymeric’s breathing heavy in his ears as he worked him through his second orgasm.

When he pulled back, Aymeric was staring half-lidded at the roof of the tent, and the quiet, fucked out noise he made when Estinien started to pull out had his cock twitching between his legs. Aymeric's ass was still wet and open, twitching around nothing after Estinien had so carefully removed his hand. It would be so  _ easy  _ at that moment to stuff him full and leave him sobbing, scrambling for  _ anything  _ to keep him grounded.

Instead, Estinien reached down, hand still slick when he wrapped it around the base of his cock. It was different after Nidhogg - thicker than his wrist and just barely longer than his forearm, scaled on the underside and tapered at the tip. Aymeric looked down at him blearily, smacking his lips together. He'd seen him before, Estinien knew, both before and after Nidhogg, and if Aymeric was repulsed by this new part of him he was terrible at showing it.

"Estinien," he said, voice broken and still so  _ needy, _ and he was over Aymeric in an instant. He kissed him until the breath was drawn from his lungs and then kissed him some more, only stopping when Aymeric shooed his hand off his cock and replaced it with his own. Estinien's hips rolled forward and he groaned, pulling back to  _ do that again  _ when Aymeric stopped him. "Don't move."

The choked noise he made was enough to make Aymeric freeze up, worried he'd done something wrong.

"That's  _ rich,  _ coming from you." 

"Tis a great difference between an open wound and-" Estinien sunk his teeth into his neck and Aymeric gasped, his grip tightening. 

"I won't." He pressed his tongue flat to the bite before replacing it with his lips. "So much as you do not drag this on overlong."

"You must needs have patience, Estinien," he replied (hypocritically, he thought, but that was neither here nor there), and started running his thumb up and down the underside. It tugged at the scales funny and it should've hurt, or at least felt  _ uncomfortable _ , but instead Estinien was struggling not to fuck into his hand just for more of the drag. Aymeric was  _ exploring,  _ he realized when he struggled to wrap a hand around the centre of his cock, replaced his thumb with his palm, and gave a careful stroke. The shuddering breath he gave into his ear must've been encouragement enough because he did it again, faster this time, and turned his head to catch Estinien's mouth.

"Use both hands," he rasped, setting his forehead against Aymeric's.

"Like this?" He twisted his hands on the upstroke and Estinien groaned, hips twitching forward.

_ "Aymeric,"  _ if he didn't speed up soon Estinien was going to break something.

"You're going to split me in half," said Aymeric, sounding more than a little dazed and tightening his grip. 

_ "Yes,"  _ he hissed and started to move; he’d had just about enough of Aymeric’s slow, considerate movements.

"Are you going to come inside of me?"

"Like you're a bitch in heat." Aymeric sucked in a breath beneath him and stilled completely, leaving an opening for Estinien to fit their lips back together and smear blood over his mouth. He rocked forward into Aymeric's palms, and that was _ just _ what he needed, nails digging into the blanket beside his head when he started to move properly. Before long he was dripping precum down Aymeric’s wrists, more than he would’ve were he still entirely Elezen. Were he not trying to be silent (more for the sake of Aymeric’s shame than his own), he would tell him how he wanted to fill him up until he was leaking all over their shared cot, until it ran down his thighs and he would have to sneak off to clean himself off before any knights awoke to see him in such a sorry state. Instead he moaned into his mouth, snaking a hand into his hair and pulling the longer strands at the back of his head. 

The building pressure in his stomach was a long time coming, and had he not spent the better part of the last hour patching up Aymeric - and, by extension, making him cum twice - he’d be ashamed at how quickly he was coming undone. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head when Aymeric whined into his mouth and he came, stuttering out a half-hearted rhythm as he spilled onto his stomach. 

When he leaned back enough to open his eyes proper, Aymeric was looking up at him and his heart nearly fell through his chest. He was smiling, soft with just an edge of smugness, and with his hair fanned out behind him he almost looked like a saint. With that thought in mind, he leaned down to kiss him again, blood still tangy on his lips.

"Estinien, you…"

"Mm?" He wasn’t in a state to talk and would much rather focus on memorizing the way Aymeric’s lips fit against his, but he supposed if he wanted to say something, it would be fine.

"Your entire  _ hand." _

He surprised himself by snort-laughing right into Aymeric's face, forehead ending up against his cheekbone, "go to sleep. You'll be sore come morning." Realizing it was the perfect time to do this, he sat up on his knees, smoothing his hands down Aymeric's thighs so he'd relax, and started searching around for something resembling clothing. A hand closed around his wrist, and he looked up.

"You're going to leave." It wasn't a question, and it curled up in his stomach and sat heavy, stopping him in his tracks. He sounded so  _ disappointed,  _ like he thought he was just going to leave him like this, ruined and  _ alone. _ Spotting his underwear, he stood quickly and pulled them on before turning back to Aymeric.

“M’not.” He leaned back down, sliding one hand behind Aymeric’s head and kissing right below his hairline. “You’re a mess. I’d rather clean you up now than face your ire tomorrow.”

Aymeric looked up at him for a moment, recognition dawning on his face, then nodded, giving no complaint past  _ “please  _ put on something more than breeches”, to which Estinien replied that half of the people here had certainly seen worse, and would hardly balk at someone in underclothes looking for water this late at night.

Barely a quarter turn later, Estinien returned with a full jug and a rag to find Aymeric still awake, absentmindedly prodding at the bite marks on his shoulder.

“Was I too hard on you?” Estinien asked, perhaps for the first time in his life, before once again kneeling on the floor beside the cot. Despite appearances, he was barely awake, and hadn’t noticed Estinien come back until he spoke. Sluggishly, he turned his head, giving him a tired grin.

“Not to worry. A tad sore is all.” Reaching out, Estinien covered his hand with his own and guided it down until it was resting on the blanket.

“Toying with it won’t help.” The water was lukewarm when he dipped in the washcloth, then rung it out over Aymeric’s stomach. He dragged it over his skin with a tenderness he didn’t even consider himself capable of, really, and if asked of it later he would firmly deny it. He hadn’t even realized that Aymeric had begun truly falling asleep until he went to clean his neck and chest and found his eyes open just a crack, staring down at him with such unfiltered adoration that he wanted to peel his skin off.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m viable to leave you like this,” he warned, but continued nonetheless. The fresh blood around the bites Estinien had left came off easier, and before long he was dropping the washcloth back into the borrowed jug, Aymeric’s skin clean of any blood and cum that’d gathered.

Aymeric’s hands were on him before he had a chance to move himself, dragging him up onto the cot and back between his legs. 

“If you dare move even an ilm, I’ll not speak to you again.” He hooked a foot around Estinien’s knee, and he lay his brow against Aymeric’s collarbone before moving to the crook of his neck. 

“Stop fussing,” he mumbled, finding Aymeric’s hand with his own and tangling them together, turning his head to kiss the back of his palm. That satisfied him enough to make him relax fully, his fingertips tracing up a scar on Estinien’s back. “I’d not leave you like this.”

He shuffled closer, closing his eyes. Aymeric would be asleep soon, he knew this, and he was too warm not to relax into. He was saying something, quietly and too far away even though he could feel the breath on his ear, and faded from consciousness with the thought that he’d not slept this easily in years.

**Author's Note:**

> [bug me on twitter i'm fun and gay](http://www.twitter.com/aymericdeboreI)


End file.
